Beyond the Raging Flames

by Hogarth Brown

  ‘Winston’ Lucia said after they completed every preparation of the Hermeporta: the device looked sinister as its shadows flickered in the candlelight. ‘You know as well as I that we’ll need a fresh human sacrifice.’ The Professor nodded, as he rubbed his forehead.

  'Yes, we will' he said, 'it’s just hit me. We shall have to return to the mainland.' Lucia shook her head and flicked her head upwards as if to gesture outside.

  ‘Him’ she said, her eyes narrowing as she thought of the Gondolier. The Professor expressed distaste.

  ‘No, Lucia, I couldn’t do that to Zarif’ he said, returning to the man’s true name, ‘he’s helped me so much, and without him, we’d never have got here.' The Professor shook his head, 'no, we’ll have to choose someone else.’

  With reluctance, Lucia agreed although the Professor suspected that it would not take much to change her mind.

  Chapter 30

  In time for Christmas

  Padua, morning, Sunday, December 24th, 1611

  Cardinal Orsini, took in a deep breath of the skin on Illawara’s neck and stroked her cropped hair before he squeezed her as she slept: her body warm and clammy to the touch. He speckled her shoulders with kisses before she turned from him at the sensation, half giggling in her sleep. Orsini intertwined his fingers with hers and looked down at her with pride. He then looked at himself, inspecting his limbs in a chink of milky morning light: they remained young. He had half expected to have turned back into his old self - like a pumpkin after midnight - and for Illawara to then flee his bed in horror. She did not; he had given her little reason to leave it all night. The Cardinal was almost overcome once more with emotion when, before they slept, Illawara had kissed him and said she liked him however he looked.

  Like a man reborn Orsini stretched himself in bed and enjoyed the sensation of his supple muscles moving under his taut skin, and the exalted feelings and relaxation in pleasing a much-desired lover.

  He put his head back on his pillow, as his mind overran with images of himself and Illawara enjoying years of love, children, and bliss. She, as rare as she was, with her every care attended to - and he, carving a new life for himself as a young man, with the benefit of experience, making a new fortune for himself in the world of trade. He would abandon The Church for his fresh life with Illawara.

  These daydreams galloped through his mind as fast as his winged steed did through the air, enlivening and inspiring him. The Cardinal’s rejuvenated body arched into a yawn, at full stretch, which then evolved into a luxuriant sigh of blissful gratification. He snuggled under the sheets next to Illawara with sheer happiness: ‘Cook! It’s so good to see you’ came a booming male voice from downstairs.

  Orsini’s eyes flew open. He flinched, his body rigid, as he listened to the familiar voice that echoed around the house below. The young Cardinal’s pulse raced till his ears throbbed with the sound of his heartbeat.

  ‘Oh, Signore Pozzi, Adriano, it's so great to have you back’ he heard Cook say in an expression of dazed relief.

  'Renata, you seem surprised?' said Adriano striding through his palazzo before he plonked his luggage down next to the kitchen table where Cook had begun her Christmas food preparations. 'It's Christmas Eve, and I'm back as I said I would be.' Cook blushed before she hurried to close the front door behind him.

  ‘Of course, Signore, how foolish of me' she said scurrying back to the kitchen, 'you've been missed.'

  'Oh, I hope so' said Adriano before sweeping Cook into a hug and squeezing her ample bottom. She giggled before Adriano let her go with a peck on the cheek and a swift slap on her rear.

  'I’ve so much to tell you, but I know not where to begin or where to end’ Cook said wringing her hands looking at her employer and lover. Adriano looked around and frowned.

  'Where are the decorations?' He said, 'things seem less festive this year.' Cook peered about her domain with unease. Decorating the house had slipped her mind.

  ‘So many strange things have happened, Signore’ she continued, taking the merchant’s hat and cloak, and hanging them in the passageway. ‘You’ll think me a mad woman when I tell you of it - so I tremble to tell you at all…’ Adriano smiled somewhat confused.

  'Is our friend Signore Stallone still with us?' She hesitated, as she pondered how even to begin to describe what she had seen and heard of late. Renata fiddled with her apron like a little girl.

  'Well, yes... He's here, and yet not quite what he was.'

  Adriano gave Cook a quizzical look before he stroked his beard.

  ‘Do you wish to speak in riddles with me? You say strange, what could have possibly happened that could have made him not as he was before?' Cook gave out an odd laugh. She then put Adriano's luggage to one side, while she struggled for words and dithered about the kitchen, not still for a moment. She struggled to formulate a response. Adriano looked at her as she fussed about here and there unable to concentrate on the work in front of her. 'Is our friend unwell?' He walked to go upstairs. Cook shook her head but grimaced. Adriano paused to give his housekeeper a confounded look.

  Orsini leapt out of bed naked when he heard his friend’s footsteps upon the stairs. ‘Can you bring my things up with some water? I'm exhausted. I need to go to my room’ called back the master to Cook, ‘I must freshen up and change my clothes, the roads from Siena were dreadful.’ Cook gave a small bow as her mind reeled.

  Orsini clutched his chest with alarm and threw a glance to Illawara who began to stir. Cook bit her nails and then rushed to halt Adriano upon the stairs, palpitating.

  ‘Signore, don’t go up there, there is still much I have to tell you.'

  ‘Then speak up for yourself woman. Are you not well? I’ve never seen you so flustered.' Adriano said, stroking away a stray hair from Cook's red face before he attempted progress. She blocked his advance up the stairs. The master’s expression clouded.

  ‘You will find your bedroom locked, Signore’ she said with an ominous glance upward, ‘I daren’t go in there.’

  ‘What is this? Why so, Renata? What’s happened?’ Cook fumbled for expression, passing her hands in a mime through the air. She wondered what on Earth she could say to the master of the house that would not sound ridiculous.

  ‘Signore, I don't know where to begin. I’m at a loss for words' Cook fidgeted and fumbled, 'I'm, I’m like a woman at sea, tossed upon the waves...’

  'Are you trying to tell me you've become a poet?' He scoffed. Cook nibbled her nails as if they itched her as her eyes searched the air. Adriano's body made a jolt of urgency before he crossed his legs, and he attempted to ascend the steps again. Cook braced her arms across the stairwell.

  'Wait' she said. Adriano crossed his knees before he held his groin.

  ‘Then with haste make yourself clear, woman – I need the privy’ said Adriano with a furrowed brow, trying to advance further. But Cook shifted to obstruct him again. ‘What’s come over you? I’ve never seen you so hot and bothered’ he said trying to push past, ‘you look as if someone has held you over a blazing oven.’ She gulped air, walking backwards up the stairs as Adriano pushed forward to ascend. Orsini flapped about the bedroom, not knowing what to do. Cook’s eyes searched the air in vain before she fumbled at her flushed neckline and squeezed her bosoms together.

  ‘If you find me so heated, Signore, then it’s with desire for you.’ The Merchant baulked.

  ‘Renata, not now’ he whispered, ‘God be feared, I’ve never seen you so crazed. My father warned me once that a woman can become like this when the change is upon her. Have I been gone so long?’

  'It doesn't last long, why not make the most of it?' she breathed. Adriano shoved past her. Orsini heard Cook talking again on the stairs as his friend’s loud steps approached closer to the bedroom.

  ‘Who’s that I can hear coming?’ said Illawara with a yawn. Orsini had dragged on his stockings, but flapped about the room, before he snatched up a heavy candlestick.

  ‘It’s my old friend, the
owner of this house, my love’ whispered Orsini, ‘he’s returned from business - and he’s not seen me for a little while.’ Illawara covered her mouth, bolted upright, and scanned the room for a place to hide.

  Adriano marched up the stairs as Cook followed him.

  ‘Signore, please, let me explain' said Cook out of breath, 'Signore Stallone is quite changed’ she added with another attempt at intervention.

  ‘Renata, you've explained nothing. How is he changed?' Said Adriano, hopping on the stairs. Cook garbled her words, and the master flapped his arms, 'you’re babbling woman, and I'm in desperate need of my privy, leave me in peace unless you wish to mop up Noah's Flood here upon the stairs?’ Cook sounded desperate not knowing what to say or do. Adriano knew in his bones that something was wrong.

  ‘There’s somebody strange in there?’ she gasped, ‘I know not what else to say.’ Adriano paused, with a look of shock, before he gave his response.

  ‘Strange in what way? Is this house taken hostage? Is there someone who wishes to take command of my property and belongings?’ The woman hesitated, unable to articulate all the goings on in her master's house. ‘Renata, I instruct you to call upon the Guard this instant, or anyone that will come to our aid.’ She bowed at her instruction, with relief, and Orsini then heard her hurry back down the steps, snatch something up, with a clang, from the kitchen and run into the street. Cook began to wail at the top of her voice for help, and the Guard, by banging a pan with a wooden spoon.

  Soon Orsini heard the street outside echo with clamour and sound. The Cardinal felt his chest thundering as he tightened his grip on the candlestick as he listened to his friend’s footsteps halt outside the door. Illawara snatched up one of the bed sheets to cover herself, before she dashed into the wardrobe, and peeped at Orsini via the door. She could see that a sweat had risen on the sinews of his back as his chest heaved.

  Adriano crashed his fists against the door.

  ‘Pietro, your Eminence, is all well with you in there? Have you been apprehended?’ Orsini did not respond but instead tightened his grip upon the candlestick. Illawara chewed on a corner of the bedsheet as she clutched the covering to her body.

  Out on the streets, after their fruitless efforts the day before, Hermes and Antonio were drawn to the loud clanging of the pan and spoon, which ricocheted through the streets, assisted with Cook’s cries for help. The pair had extended their search down to the lower district after slipping from the house early to try and avoid questions and churchgoers.

  Both men then looked at each other: ‘This is it’ said Antonio, excited, ‘I recall now there is a house with a terrace around this corner: a wealthy merchant I believe.’

  ‘Something has gone wrong’ said Hermes, frowning ‘I hope Illawara is well.’ Hermes then adjusted the straps of Illawara's leather satchel that he carried for her in the hope of reuniting her with her belongings. The pair then picked up speed to hurry towards the commotion. A few drowsy people had stumbled into the street to see what Cook was raving about outside.

  ‘The Guard, somebody call the GUARD’ she yelled at the top of her voice.

  'Renata, it's Sunday morning, and Christmas Eve, good woman should you not be getting ready for church?' said a neighbour. Cook banged her pan even harder.

  ‘We’ll call the guard’ said a young boy, covering his ears, that had snuck out to play in the street with his friend. He then left with his companion to bolt up the road.

  ‘Let us help you, good woman’ said Antonio, after rounding the corner with Hermes.

  ‘Oh, thank God’ exclaimed Cook, clutching her chest ‘two young men to my aid. The people around here are like ghosts, numb to the world. Please, make haste upstairs. I fear the master of this house is in danger.’

  ‘Who assails him?’ said Antonio. Cook held her head and searched for words.

  ‘A stranger I fear. A young man like yourselves. But I cannot command him.’ Antonio and Hermes glanced at each other before Cook let out a wail as the sound of a door crashing in reverberated down the stairs. The pair ran inside the front door she had opened and followed Cook’s directions as she gestured to the back stairs, breathless with worry. She put down her pan and grabbed her rolling pin before she followed the pair who bounded up the stairs towards the commotion.

  Antonio entered first to find Adriano and Orsini grappling on the floor. The older man was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Cook screamed.

  ‘Ruffian!’ the merchant yelled as he wrestled with Orsini, and tried to yank the candlestick from his hand. Even a reinvigorated Orsini struggled to throw off the extra bulk of his older friend, frustrated by his strength. He attempted to free himself from Adriano's grip upon him and writhed like a snake to outmanoeuvre the older man. He did not see Hermes and Antonio enter.

  ‘STOP’ yelled Hermes, before leaping into the fray. Illawara clamped her hand to her mouth. Antonio looked on at the struggle, stunned, as Hermes grappled with Orsini’s hand to prize the bloodstained candlestick from his grasp. Adriano started to choke Orsini. Hermes then worked hard to yank Adriano's hands off the Cardinal's neck. Cook then went for Orsini with her rolling pin, but Antonio, with some effort, held her back. A multitude of footsteps then approached from outside, led by the boys.

  'They live in there' one of the children directed, and in moments four men from the Guard climbed the stairs and burst into the room.

  Orsini stopped his struggle then: tired and outnumbered.

  ‘Arrest this man’ Adriano declared with winded indignation, ‘He has tried to take command of this house while I’ve been away' he added. Orsini panted, gasping for breath, as he held up his bloodstained hands.

  ‘Officers of the Guard, this man is mistaken’ she said, ‘for I’m a relative of a person who stayed here. I was only defending the contents of this house from this violent man who broke down the door and attacked me. I feared for my life…’ Adriano gave an expression of shock as blood trailed his cheekbone.

  ‘You lie? What relative are you to my good friend that was lodged here but a while ago?’ said Adriano, not wanting to blow the cover of his powerful Cardinal ally and thus avoid a scandal.

  ‘I am the Cardinal’s nephew’ said Orsini, with boldness as if it were an obvious truth. A member of the Guard pulled the youth up from the floor.

  ‘A Cardinal's nephew you say. Is this true?’ said one of the officers, as his colleagues braced the room. Cook stood still. She was in an impossible position and did not know what to say. To speak the truth would have been ridiculous, to lie would be a betrayal. An awkward silence fell over the room.

  ‘I can vouch for him’ said Antonio raising his hand with satisfaction, ‘for I know this man very well.’ All eyes looked Antonio’s way: the Guards, Adriano, Cook and Hermes all with surprise, but Orsini looked on with dread.

  ‘We still have to make an arrest, as this man is injured’ said another of the officers gesturing to Adriano. One of them addressed Orsini. ‘If you come without the need for force we will allow you to dress before we take you both for questioning.’ Hermes helped Adriano get up.

  'Thank you' the master said. Cook then fussed over her lover and found a cloth for his head wound. Orsini, once dressed, allowed himself to be taken downstairs by two of the Guards. Adriano was allowed to relieve himself, in another room, before accompanying the third officer to join his colleagues and Orsini.

  ‘Why don’t you stay here, and look after this good woman?’ Antonio said to Hermes. Antonio's gesture and slight pause communicated a silent message to him.

  ‘Yes? Oh yes, of course, indeed I will’ Hermes replied, scanning the room with his eyes. Cook did not protest, already accepting that her own life had become a stranger to her. She needed answers, and she suspected that the young men in front of her would be able to provide them.

  ‘You go with this Guard then, and I can look after things here’ added Hermes with a smile of reassurance to Cook.

  ‘Will you be alright with this youth?�
� said the Guard, eyeing Hermes with suspicion. Cook nodded before Antonio then left with the fourth officer to go downstairs. When the officers had left with Orsini, Adriano and Antonio in their company she turned to Hermes.

  ‘What is going on? I know that you must know something. My life has turned upside down.’ Cook's lip trembled, and her body quaked from all the fear and surprise that had shaken through her.

  ‘I can explain. I’m sorry for all of this’ said Hermes with a sigh, before he cast his gaze about the room. ‘Illawara, are you here?’ he said, ‘if you’re hiding, please come out.’

  Illawara did not move for some time, her mind racing.

  ‘Your friend must be in here’ said Cook, not a person has left this room to my knowledge, ‘and I have a note for her. The tall man gave it to me, but he looked like he had the Pox.’ The door of the cupboard that Illawara had hidden in creaked open. Hermes gasped with surprise when he saw her: but was relieved she was alive. Illawara wrapped herself as best she could in the bedsheet. Cook blinked in disbelief.

  Hermes rushed towards Illawara with his arms outstretched, and reached her. But she slapped Hermes as hard as she could. The sting, and shock, of the strike across his face, halted him in his stride. Cook covered her mouth, and he stood shell-shocked as Illawara glared at him. He brought his hand up to his face and winced as he touched the tender reddening skin. At that moment he hated Illawara.

  ‘Why did you do that?’ he spat, bemused.

  ‘You deserved it’ she said, but she then doubted her actions. She started to colour with guilt as she looked at his wounded expression. Hermes closed his eyes, clenched his fists and tried to control his rage. He did not want his emotions to get the better of him, and strike his friend, as he looked Illawara in the face with his teeth gritted.